


Blink

by HeavenSentGohansRage



Category: Doctor Who, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Human, Blink, Explicit Language, Hurt/Comfort, Issac is the Doctor, M/M, Minor Character Death, sterekweek2015
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-29
Updated: 2015-10-29
Packaged: 2018-04-28 19:35:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5103125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeavenSentGohansRage/pseuds/HeavenSentGohansRage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Okay, not sure, but really, really hoping,” the guy swallows after a moment, points down at himself, “pants?”<br/>-<br/>Based on the Doctor Who episode "Blink".<br/>Derek is Sally, Stiles is Larry and their Doctor has a British-American accent (because Daniel Sharman still has some work to do XD).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blink

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Sterek week 2015 for the fifth day- Sterek Scene.  
> Only this is a little bit more than a scene.  
> ...  
> I am not really ashamed, though.

Derek breathes in the cold, wet air that comes after light drizzle, warning of the rainstorm that is about to follow its steps. It is atypical for it to rain so soon, as they were still in the very peak of the weeks when the summer straggles to leave as much impact as it can before it leaves until next year, but he could not blame himself for not bringing his umbrella since he did to intend to find himself there at the first place. Those moments were unpredictable, when he is left out of space to fill his head with tones of work- and then he cannot stand it anymore and has to unload it.

By invading abandoned, ruined buildings, of course; as if there is any other way to get loose at Friday night.

And how could he expect to never being ambushed while doing so, really? Even if it is not exactly a communal town to have this rumourof a inspector weirdo to run around and get to everyone, but he could not miss the slight smile people gave him now and then between the usual pity looks. They think that instead of looking for a way to clean his head he have just gone insane.

And maybe he had; but not enough to think that the thrown stone that was directed to the back of his head, oh-so-mysteriously just after he ripped out the last piece of the leafy wallpaper and revealed  a warning - dedicated to him, using his full name - that was written underneath with big letters on the on the old, polished wall.

 _BEWARE_ _THE WEEPING ANGEL_

_OH, AND DUCK!_

_NO, SERIOUSLY, DUCK!_

_DEREK S. HALE_

_DUCK NOW!_

He was angry with his heart betraying him and slightly beating faster after reading his name, and as much with himself for actually ducking - even if he checked and it was indeed a hard rock that could damage him.

Just who the hell are those bastards, and why did such a good job at covering the wall so the layer looked as old and neglected as the rest of the house?

But who cares, because the only important question is why did he tempted to check behind the wallpaper after he noticed letters on an exposed spot on a torn part?

He inhales deeply once more, although it is not a cold, clean air that he needs right now- but a dusty, still air. It was always better for him than nicotine or other drugs, who are only good for those who look for  the sedative effect, which he does not.

How could he let some stupid child to get at him? He was not even scared, even if there was a tensity of somewhat danger in the air- he just got out of there only even more pissed if anything.

But it was not only the prank he is being restless about, was it? It is also about his stupid brain refuses to stop poking at him, even if very quietly, by the weird signature at the end of the message.

_LOVE FROM THE DOCTOR (1969)_

Was this a reference to something? A quote? He may check in the internet later when he will get home, once he is enough calm to stop wandering in the streets.

But something told him otherwise, and that how he eventually finds himself next to his Sisters’ building, key is already prepared in his hand. He does not even hope to find in a hope to someone awake inside at a too dark time to even consider this as an early morning, hence he unhesitatinglyunlock the door with his own copy of the key.

He barely comes to visit at their place instead of them at his, even more rarely when it is actually necessary for him to carry the duplicate when there is no one to open the door, like when the girls insistently decide to keep sharing their single bed even when one of them has the flu. But Derek has to keep take it with him anyway, even more precious and important than his wallet or ID or anything else he makes sure to keep close to him really, just in case one of them will forget hers and get stuck outside; if the key gets lost somewhere in their frat and they will be in too much hurry to wait for a burglar; if they get themselves stuck inside and-

He handles the door as quietly as he can, takes care to take off his shoes while minimally staining the floor, and even though there were only one barely functional radiator at his Sisters’ room, he prefers to hang his wet jacket since he expects to have some cups of coffee until one of the girls wakes up.

There is a dim sound coming from the bedrooms, and once he finishes to arrange himself he walks over there carefully in order to turn what is probably the television off.

Before he makes to the room, Derek notices the door of the unused room was opened - a guest room that was at first planned to be used as a rented room, only there are not a lot of people that have any reason to look after such in the old part of Beacon Hills, cheap as it is - and the noise actually comes from inside.

There are a couple of screens scatters around the room: some little laptops and television at different sizes- all looked old and used, clearly so even in the dark room that was lighted only by the yellowish light that comes from the screens themselves, and Derek guesses they were all not-so-painfully were donated to the owner. There is a brownish, old timed footage including a curly haired, sharp facial features and scarf-wearing man who appears on all the screens - at some of them he is accompanied by a not amused at all girl with a smooth, possibly ginger hair - with the video being frozen at all screen but one, which keeps rolling and being the source of the noise.

“ _...your life could depend on this,”_ the man says at the camera with an intense, serious expression, _“Don't blink, don't even blink! Blink and you're dead. They're fast, faster than you can believe. Don't turn your back, don't look away, and don't blink! Good Luck_.”

It stops right there, with the person staring right into the viewer with wide eyes; Derek has not enough time to wonder about before he hears the toilet being flushed.

He planned to wait until a reasonable hour to wake them up - he is not hysteric by the incident or anything, but it did ruined the private moment he had with himself - as awkward as it is to consistently going to old houses to look for something to fill the emptiness, after even at work it is impossible to stay distracted - and he desperately needed something to stop him from giving in and let his eyes colour themselves outraged red.

He has no time to react, even if he was not startled to froze at his place- because soon after a man comes out of the opposite door.

A man who is _certainly_ not one of his Sisters.

A sleepy, torso-naked man- or more correctly _entirely exposed_ guy-

Who any wonder of his gracefulness are shut down as soon as he finally catches on, and then it is limbs flailing impossibly everywhere, which is followed by a high-pinched shrink- and the guy falls on the floor.

It is enough to ensure he could not be a possible intruder, and for a moment Derek is afraid he provoked some kind of attack- but as soon as he crouched the guy hurries to get up, and they bump their heads together.

When Derek overcomes the surprising pain, he opens his eyes to a look of big honey eyes ones who blink at him in shock, already sobered up.

“Um, hi,” the guy murmurs.

Derek does not know what to do- he does not want to help the guy stand up without an explanation to  what the hell he is doing there and just how much up to good he is, but he finds it hard for some reason to find any words to form.

“Okay, not sure, but really, really hoping,” the guy swallows after a moment, points down at himself, “pants?”

“You just _had_ to not listen to Cora, didn’t you?” Laura, who appeared above them - and as they look up they almost clashed again - shakes her head and wraps her peach sleep robe over her pyjamas tighter, “you’re lucky he didn’t think you’re a pervert and hit you in the head. Go to sleep already, Doctor what’s-his-name will still be there tomorrow too.”

The clothless guy does not argue before he hurried to cover himself up as much as he could and comically gets away of the scene on the balls of his feets, almost losing balance again when he closes the door after him.

“He promised to Cora to not to do that,” Laura smiled amusingly, since getting awkward was not much like her, “but I guess some habits are too strong to break. She sends her apologies, by the way.”

“I don’t take any responsibility over Stilinski,” Cora croaks from inside their darken room, obviously forced Laura to get up of bed to the noise.

“He’s _your_ friend, though,” Laura calls back, “and you agreed letting him sleep here, knowing he sleeps without clothes on.”

“Shut up, I try to sleep!”

Laura rolls her eyes, and Derek has a feeling Cora was not the one to try to convince the other Sister to let the Stilinski guy stay.

“So, what’s bring you to our little cosy, slowly collapsing home at such hour? Unless you went to explore _another_ house who already did.”

Derek joins hands over his chest, shows he is clearly not approved of his big Sister making a joke out of him. He is aware it is not a normal thing to do, but it is not devastating at any way and he cannot interfere anyone at abandon houses, even if there was this one time the police thought otherwise. Whatever she does at her moments of breakdown - and she _does_ have those, since no one can be entirely candid about their demons from the past while darkening circles around her eyes are a countdown to the arrival of the time of the month when she collapses and sleeps for an entire day - it is not her business to criticize him.

“Come on, Derek, stop scowling, You’re not the one who’s been awaken at in an impossible hour the morning,” she yawns, “it’s better be worth all the mess, though.”

Derek shakes his head, refuses to make her stay away anymore- he was embarrassed to not be able to somehow avoid the encounter to be that loud. “Get back to bed, I’m sorry for all the mess I just needed to change environment for a night, that’s all.”

“I told you you’ll be fed up eventually with that silence. And I’m too awake right now to go back to sleep, so deal with it,” and just like that her light tone turned into concern, “What happened, Der? Was it something at work or another nightmare?”

Derek swallows, suddenly aware of the fact that the rooms are not exactly soundproof to conversations at the hall. He prayed that the Stilinski guy - no, he is a _kid_ , because despise whatever he saw or _did not_ got a pick of Stilinski's body, as long as he is Cora’s age he is still a kid - already went to bed.

“I can’t talk about that right now,” he avoids to answer, even though it is not any of the two- but he still prefers to leave an impression it is because awkwardly enough he still has no idea what exactly he came for, “not when you should be at bed right now. Wait to me in your room, I’ll go make you chamomile tea.”

Laura studies him for a moment, but it is another yawn that thankfully seems to convince her, as both of them know that even with the strongest coffee she cannot possibly be one hundred percent herself when it is so late into the night. Even if sleep is not something that gets to her easy either, she is far from a state where she can pay full attention and catch everything he says like he knows she wants to.

“Don’t you dare sneak away before I get up, though,” she points a finger at him, “There are details and I want to know them,” then she turns and disappears into the blackness of the bedroom, and as Derek walks to the direction of the pretext of a kitchen he hears her saying to Cora, “I know you’re still awake, by the way. At any other case you would tell us to continue this talk in other room. Maybe I should always have a heart-to-heart next to your bed from now on just to test how much you can pretend you don’t listen.”

Laura can barely sleep with all the thoughts she fails to try block from them to be aware of; Cora has the most light sleep he knows so she would not miss a chance to have a last glimpse of her loved once before they get away and Derek lets the nightmares devour him, who even though he would not admit it out loud it is a much better place to be in than at the aftermath that comes when he gets back to reality, and there is no one to try and fail again to save.

That is the trio of siblings that they are, with the unbroken circle of trying to be strong for the two others and sacrifice everything for them while keep sinking into the mud and by that pulling the others in too. Derek wishes that once his face disappears underneath the surface, his Sisters will not dive after him.

-

The sky stayed clear since he got out of the house the day before - at least it seems so according to the piece of sky he can catch beyond the dew-twinkly ends of breaches, which get messier and more dense the more they get closer - but the blue in them is already dull and ready to be conquered by the grey that is slowly but steadily surrounding him.

He cannot believe himself for being so distract to being un umbrella with him.

“I was worried for a while that this was the only thing that could help you be a little bit less grumpy- seeing those _DANGER - UNSAFE STRUCTURE - KEEP OUT_ signs hanging up on locked antique gates,” Laura mentioned as they walk through the door that was left opened by Derek when he came there the evening before, “but luckily I was not enough half-asleep to noticed your ears blushing when you stared like a stunned idiot at Stiles.”

Then Derek recalls his little Sister’s stories of her unnaturally clumsy friend, the Sheriff’s son; he saw him a couple of times, but not too much since he was either busy with his idiotic jock lifestyle or hides himself of anyone unnecessary to communicate with after the-

“What was he doing there?” Derek asks immediately, instead of denying like he should have that he had such reaction at all.

“His college roommate got tired of storing all of that equipment in their room, so he came back for the weekend to drop it in his house- only his Father did not agree to keep it,” Laura says as she examines the entrance hall, with the weird floral floor that is surrounded by filthy white walls, which on the ceiling they carry there is a black chandelier that give an impression of coming down by the weight of a single candle on it, “another friend of his excuses that he just moved in with his girlfriend, so he asked Cora a favour to keep it at our place and when he came to move it all to that room I just let him stay overnight.”

Cora did not come with them, irritated that instead of making Derek stop travelling around old structures until one of them would collapse on him - and with Cora not knowing how to express her love and concern in other way than shooting stingy remarks, the subject of Derek consistently putting himself in danger would undoubtedly turn into an ugly argument if they did not have a visitor in the house - and the always-curios Laura insisted to come back there with him.

Derek leads her through another door to the living room, with now now half-exposed wall after he removed part of the wallpaper; they move around a chandelier on the floor that already gave up to gravity, and dead leaves which covers the wooden floor, that ironically enough match the leafy motive of the room, crack when they step on them.

“The colour is as weak as the wall’s, and the letters are cut where the wall is injured like they were written at the same time the house was abandoned,” Laura comments.

“But how can my name be written here? How is that possible?” Derek mooted, “I checked yesterday on the internet through my phone, but nothing was written anywhere about the number, or the name or that statute, not together or separately.”

Research or technology overall was not something Derek has ever excel in, though; there were not a lot of mysteries during his life, but as a person who words do not come out of him through writing or his voice as much as in his thoughts, he was always more into rolling theories anyway.

“I think maybe 1969 is a serial number, they can’t possibly think I’d believe it’s a - “

“ - It really does look kinda spooky- it’s almost like it feels ashamed of himself,” Laura marveled and makes Derek tear his eyes off of the wall and look at her walking to the exit to the garden, where the big stone statue of an angel in a tunic covering its face as if crying stands; the one that when Derek was searching for a sign of the sneaker-

“It’s moved since yesterday,” Derek informed her, astonished “I’m sure of it, it’s closer. It got closer to the house.”

“Why would whoever did this return here just to move a heavy statue?”

Derek’s breathes come uneven, irritated and frustrated- but with all the nonsense that surround him, he is just _sure_ about that one.

Especially as the statute does not looks guilty the slightest, despise what Laura says; Derek knows too well what it is, and the statute does not even look sad at all, but someone who hides a giggle if anything.

Laura turns around then to try to observe as much of the building as she can through the tangled branches. “Did you try to read about the house himself?”

“I tried, but nothing that I wrote led me to anything.”

Whereas Laura gets back in to look around for more clues, he stays outside to do the same there. Derek did not plan to investigate but only to show Laura the place of Derek’s story - a result of his inability to not give him to Laura’s ridiculous pout, which he knew even as he agreed to take her that it was a mistake that will cost him in teasing him for possibly being haunted for the rest of his life - but talking with her about the subject seriously made his own curiosity to overcome his pride that refuses to admit it can be something more interesting than some bored prat.

The stones that are around the area are similar to the one that was thrown at him - hence the stone could not give it any clue as where it came from - and even at daylight there was no sign to the escape root. Nothing was left behind either.

“Wait, that year,” Laura’s voice is suddenly heard again from inside the living room, “he told me yesterday, it is the same - “

“What?” Derek calls and walks to her direction.

As Derek steps into the building again, there is a noise of someone ringing the bell- long enough to think the sound is made because of the wind.

The siblings look at each other, the same wonder is written at both of their faces.

Both of them walk to the door, but Derek stops Laura before she can exit the living room.

“Stay here, make sure I’ll be able to see you through the mirror at all time,” Derek instructs in a low voice, pointing with his chin to the direction of a big mirror, which was strangely placed on the hall’s floor, which from their spot the house’s entrance door is visible- meaning he will be able to see her from over there as well.

Laura does not look pleased, but does as he asks.

There is a silhouette of a man from behind the door’s rectangle; Derek sends Laura a reassuring look through the mirror and open the door.

He wears a suit and his hair is impeccably stylish, and his mere arrival to an abandoned house is not the only questionable thing about him being there while not looking lost at all. At first Derek thinks he got involved with the mafia, but he is doubt a member of a criminal organization would prefer shamelessly once-over someone who got into the wrong priority with a judgmental eyebrow, like he expect someone’s other to hang out in a forsaken place as that.

Derek reminds himself to keep checking at Laura’s reflection in the corner of his eye, not to fully tilt his head so it will not look suspicious- as he can never know.

“I’m looking for Derek Hale,” the man announces in an annoyed tone like someone told him to use the magic word. Impossibly, Derek already loathes even more than the person who threw the stone at him.

“How did you know I’d come here?”

The man rolls his eyes closed and inhales deeply through his nose, struggle to stay courteous- or at least in his own term. “I was told by my Grandma’s testament to bring this letter on this date at this exact time to Derek Hale. It’s simple- if you don’t confirm me you’re him, I’m not wasting my time with you.”

“Then it’s mutual,” Derek replies simply and held the door to close it- but the man blocks him, restrain face suddenly turns into panic.

“No, listen, I’m sorry, okay? Please excuse my behaviour, just forget what I said,” he laughs nervously, ”please listen to me. I just need to give you this letter and have your sign, that’s all. Then it’s you back to your life, me back to mine. No contact at all ever again whatsoever, you can see it written in the contract too.”

Derek believes him solely because there is no way the man would do such a good show of not wanting to be there and give him the honour of speak to him. He gets his hand off of the door and nods at him in agreement,

He cannot see clearly, but from knowing her his entire life he is pretty sure Laura does her best to not laugh.

The man sighs in relief. “Okay, good, Do you have anything identifying with a picture with you in a chance?”

Derek raises a card in front of him; the man reaches to take it but Derek backs away his hand, not trusting enough to give it to him. He doesn’t argue, and despise asking specifically he looks more busy to read Derek’s detail than bothering to compare the picture to Derek’s face. Derek bets he got clear instructions, but is not really good at following them.

He checks the mirror once more.

The man nods when he is finished. “Sign this,” he lends Derek a paper holder pad with an attached pen.

He scans it, thankfully already skilled to find problematic phraseology quickly by his job- and then signs it, after noticing a part where the man’s name - Jackson Whittemore - is written, when his Grandmother’s name is only noted as Ms. Whittemore.

“So all you have to do now is take it,” Jackson puts the pad back in one side of his jacket and brings out from the other a small, old enveloped.

Derek gestures at it with his chin. “Open it.”

He stares at him with a shock. “What?”

“Rip the paper, hold the letter in your hand and _then_ bring it to me.”

“Is this a joke?”

Derek keeps a demanding expression. “Open it or I don’t take it.”

“But you read the contract!” Jackson’s voice is shaken with impatient, “you know I need to watch you open and read it but I can’t do it myself!”

“You said once I sign the paper you’re out of here, so we’re done here.”

This time when he attempts to close the door, Jackson stops him aggressively.

Now, as if he is not forced to stay polite anymore, he allows his face to change and show just how  pissed he is. “Look, if you don’t take this- I can’t get my part of the inheritance, okay? Neither can the rest of the family, and god knows why she decided to send me alone to here, but that’s what’s written in the testament and I’m not going to lose it and have everyone on me because someone was too of a _bitch_ to touch a freaking piece of paper.”

Derek is clearly stronger than him; he can make sure he would not follow Laura and him back to the car, and Derek would be able to locate him through Boyd and then make sure he would not see him againץ But the incident of the night before left it with too many bizarre things to question, and he prefers to avoid having more unresolved mysteries as long as he can.

Therefore he ignores Jackson’s audacity to ask him instead: “Who’s your Grandmother?”

Jackson takes a few ineffective deep breaths. “Laura Costello Whittemore, who prior marriage was called Hale, that was part a legacy that was used to be called Nightinghale.”

Derek swallows; only the very four remaining of their family was aware of the last fact.

He does not try to avoid turn his head fully to the direction of the mirror this time, but the living room door is closed.

“Laura?!” Derek sprints to said door, which is opened only after a couple of stubborn shakes; his eyes search through the entire empty room and then the garden, which save for the statue is desolate.

He almost runs into Jackson as he hurries to exit the room and go up the stairs, constantly calling her the entire time without having anyone to answer.

There are a couple more angel statues standing there, which look the same as the one outside. Derek stops running around though - but only for a moment - when he notices one of them behind designed in other position that is not covering its face: while one hand does hides its eyes, the other one holds a key- shiny and clean, probably the only item from this century in the entire house. It is almost like that statue was sculpted specially for that purpose, and Derek does not think of it too much before taking it.

“Stop freaking out about that name like a maniac!” Jackson calls after him from downstairs, “Can you just fucking take it if you want to end with it too so bad?”

Derek gets back down the stairs to shove Jackson into the wall and let him fall to the ground, his head gets covered by the crumbling wall.

“Where the fuck did they take her?” Derek growls at him.

Jackson raises careful, shaking hands in a peace gesture that Derek does not takes seriously for a moment. “Who are you talking about?”

“You can stop pretending, tell me what you did to her.”

“Can’t you just take the frickin’ envelope and get this over with?” Jackson tries to stand up, but then gets punched in the nose by Derek before he manages to push himself up.

“Tell. Me. Where. Is. Laura,” Derek keeps demanding.

After being overcomes the short dizziness of the pain, Jackson starts crying as blood runs down his nostrils. “I don’t know what’s your problem, man, but I’m only here to bring you that stupid piece of shitty letter, nothing else, and I was serious when I promised to leave you alone after this. I didn’t do anything else and I was _not_ planning to.”

“You sick son of a bitch,” Derek barely avoids himself of hitting him more until he would not be able to answer anything, “calling her with your own surname like you’re already official! Was that your plane, you little filthy perv, to take her hostage and force her to marry you and then lock her in your basement when all I’m left with is a fricking piece of paper?”

Jackson released a sour chuckle, and with wide eyes regrets it immediately. “No, no of that. I swear on my Porsche this is not the case. You can take it, if you want, here,” he digs into his pockets until he finds his car keys and throws it at Derek, who is less than will to try and catch it, “it’s all yours. Please, just let me - “

Derek catches his collar, while Jackson is too internally shaking to try for real to shake himself away out of Derek’s grip. “You are _not_ going anywhere, not until your accomplice bring her back safely.”

Derek raises his hand with a fist ready in his palm when Jackson brings up his own hand.

“Wait, wait, just- please,” he sends his shaking other hand to get the envelope out of his inner pocket again, not taking his eyes off of Derek for a second, “this- this will explain you _everything_ , okay? I have no idea what happened and if someone took momentum of this whole situation, but I was not told anything except bring it to you at as best condition as possible, remember? I have no idea how my Grandma knew to find you here at that specific time and what she was up to before her death twenty years ago, by _nothing_ of that is on me, I’m just a messenger who has no idea about any of this. Just, please,” he gestures the hand with the package, clearly tries to act as gently as he can.

Derek takes a moment to think; it may be his only clue, after all. And if they wanted to do something to him, they were sneaky enough to take Laura so quietly, and had no reason to not use that ability to their advantage to take him down too and hurting him through whatever it is that in the package.

“Lay down on your stomach, with your hands over your head.”

Jackson slowly places the envelope on the floor, saving his eye contact with Derek like his lifeline, and only breaks it when his entire body touches the floor except of his hands which holds into his hair, which is now a total mess and it is impossible to know what his haircut used to look like a few minutes ago.

Derek puts his foot over Jackson’s hands and pick up the piece of cardboard which is about to rip itself open before anyone has a chance to do so themselves. He shakes it a little, and it indeed sound like pages being rubbed at each other.

He does not interest in the piece of paper itself that he finds inside, though, as he is in the added photos are those which draw his attention: old fashioned photographs with people he does not recognize - except of some who look identical to some of his lost family - all involving a woman with the exact face as Laura’s, who ages with every new photo he moves to the back of the heap.

The number _1969_ keeps running inside his head.

“Tell your _Doctor_ ,” Derek orders Jackson without looking at him, voice steady and cold, “that his years earning that title with forming those little puzzles to people are nothing compared to my chess ability, and even without many soldiers I’ll still win this game.”

He hits him in the back of his neck then to loss of consciousness, and storms out of there.

-

First thing he checks at his Sisters’ home for Cora, and only then takes the risk of calling her and expose her for hackers, if they have not done it yet.

They better not, because she does not answer any of his texts or calls.

She sleeps only at her and Laura’s frat since her community college is nearby, and does not have any hobbies that could keep her outside on her own or friends as she complains now as much as she was during high school about how much everyone around her is stupid-

And yet, there is Stiles; Derek suddenly recalls that Laura told him earlier that she may spend some of the day with him at where he spends his weekend working, once she wakes up.

Laura, who Derek could not spend too much time looking for some clue for her as he was in a hurry to find Cora first- but he knew that there was no point to do more than looking around while he was running to his car.

That helplessness feeling again; he _hates_ it.

He shakes himself from his thoughts in favour of focousing on searching for Stiles’ number at Laura’s mobile which she left at the frat. His stress increases when he sees missed calls and unread messages from both Cora and Stiles, although for some reason no one of them answers when Derek tried to call them back. He tries to find the name of Stiles’ store through a text exchange between Laura and Cora - nothing secretive, but definitely some private details he really wishes he did not read - until he finds the name of Stiles’ store that Cora once told Laura she was at: _Finstock’s DVD Store_. He searches for the address as fast as he can through his own mobile and rushes back to his car once he finds it.

The storm has officially began when he was still at Wester Drumlins, but he only comes to notice it when he gets out of the frat to drive to Stiles’ shop- and it could not suit his mood more, with the skies sending lightningseverywhere, wishing to reach to any single spot possible that is around and expose it- and when it is not enough for them they let the anger take the better of them and destroy everything; then coming the groaning rumbles, and the rain rushes on as the coldness of the pain stabs him as sharply as the fast drops.

How could he do it? How _dared_ he get himself so distracted and just let her be taken by the hands of fuck-him-if-he-knows-who’s hands?

What is he going to tell Cora?

When he gets to the store, the person at the encounter seems to not be aware of his surrounding excerpts of the scene he watches on a television - which sounds like the speech from the film _Independence Day_ \- but then he picks up his index finger, as he signs for Derek to stay quiet and wait.

Derek catches the mid-aged salesperson's shirt, his usual lack of impatient his now worse than ever, and makes the man almost lose his balance as the chair does fall to the floor behind him.

“Where’s Stiles Stilinski?”

“Th-through the back,” the man chokes out.

This time he does losing his balance when Derek lets him go, and he circles the encounter in the direction of the storage.

It looks like the rest of the store, with heavily loaded shelves; and since he does not have much luck that day with finding anyone he is looking for, there is not any sign for Stiles, and Derek would wonder if he got to the right place if it was not for the little - and, why of course, old - television with the same old video that was shown upon Stiles’ screens back at his Sisters’ house of the curly-haired man.

“ _Lydia_!” he complains at the girl that pops her head into the picture.

The girls rolls her eyes in return and moves away, leaving the man sitting in front of the camera on his own again.

“Stiles?” Derek calls out, already anoxios of the possibility of not.

“ _Quite possibly_ ,” he hears the voice from the television again, who then after a short pause throws another phrase at the camera with no connection to the previous one, “ _I’m afraid so_.”

“Hey,” Stiles finally appears from even further back in the premises, “Um, do you need any help?”

“Where’s Co - “

“ _Thirty eight,_ ” the voice comes louder and more annoyed than the calm words before, and it surprises Derek enough to cut him off.

“Wait, sorry,” Stiles hurries to pass Derek and pauses the playback.

He picks up then a small bowl with a bulk of something Derek is not familiar with but already knows it is one of the worst junk that could be made, and Stiles eats as he examines Derek.

“Hang on, we’ve met before, haven’t we?”

Derek huffs; the memory will surely come to him soon enough, and hopefully then he will not have to waste time with being questioned about looking for his Sister.

Stiles’ eyes are widen at once, and thankfully he swallows before he gapes in shock; the bowl is tilted downward until most of its containers drips on the floor; and as Stiles clumsy attempts to save some of it, the bowl gets away from his grip. It seems for a short moment he thinks of trying to fish it from the ground when he is not able to remember how to move his eyes away from Derek’s, but it is hard enough when he is too busy covering the area which this time is already covered by jeans.

“Ah, yeah, awkward, _shittly_ awkward. Um,” Stiles self-unpleasantly shakes his head as he straightens his legs again, his hands keeps jerking with every word he says like he needs to move them as he talks but cannot allow himself to throw them far from where he crosses them, “sorry, sorry again about the whole - “

“ - I came looking for my Sister. Was she here today?”

Stiles blinks as if only now it came down to him who Derek is beside the one he had an embarrassing incident with. “Oh, yeah, about an hour ago. She told me that when you asks to just tell you she had to go away for a bit, some bullshit about college.”

So she ran away for real, even before Laura disappeared; but the question is whether it was her decision or not. “What happened?”

“Some fuckers played a vicious prank on her. There was this weird guy that came by, insisting he has a letter for her from Laura. He was such a full of himself dumbass, it was so funny how she convinced him paying for her to take it, but then she starts reading it and - ”

“ _people don't understand time,_ ” out of the blue the video is playing again, “ _It's not what you think it is._ ”

“Ugh, stupid thing,” Stiles groans, points the remote control again at what Derek now comes to notice is a VCR, “She was so frantic she left it all here with her bag. I’ve tried to call Laura but she didn’t answer. I promise I wanted to follow her myself, but she started to hit me and made me swear - “

“ - Where is it?”

“Hm?”

Derek’s fists his palms inside his jacket’s pockets; he understood Stiles was focoused at the playback, but any little thing now, even needing to repeat himself or the boy’s too-light tone, plays on his nerves.

He grits his teeth, breathes deeply through his nose. “The bag.”

“Um, no, she left it here.”

“Let me see it.”

Stiles takes a few beats to think about it, and if Derek would ever have a patient for anyone questioning his decisions regarding his own family’s business than it is surely not the moment. “Listen, I’m worried about her too, now even more that _you_ came all the way here and knew someone did something to her, but are you _sure_ it’s something that’s worth the risk of going through her stuff?”

Derek takes a step forward, which makes Stiles take a few back.

“She’s my Sister, and she doesn’t pick her fucking phone, so you better give it to me now.”

Stiles nods fast, but it takes some time to him to tell himself to actually do so; he gets back to the other room that he came from, and returns with a paper about the same age old as the one that was given to Derek, with some more added photographs of the same woman who wears Laura’s face, sitting and hugging her family.

“Creepy, isn’t it?” Stiles comments as Derek keeps staring down at the photos, “Cora only let me see the pictures, and I promise I didn’t read anything after she left, but _dude_! What brought this guy to do it?”

“ _It’s_ _complicated_ ,” the pause command somehow slips again.

Derek gets his own letter out of his pants’ pocket - his hands touches the key he took from the angel statue at the top floor, and for a mis second he question his urge to do so - and compares the handwriting: different things are written they are the same, and he hates himself for not knowing how Laura’s looks like.

Since he has more chances to find Cora, who disappeared out of her own will- he decides to read the version that was written to her first.

_My beloved Cora, there’s no easier way to say it, but I had to leave and it’ll be a while before you’ll be able to visit me. I know it’s very abrupt, but it is also important that you will listen to Derek- he is going through a hard time himself and will need all of your support once it ends. It’s bizarre to me how much time we spent together in that rotten, wretched place (and you better find a better one soon!) without telling you enough, if at all, how much I -_

Derek slams the paper into the table next to him, reclines on the top of it with a clenched fist and breathes shallowly. He has no idea how is he going to overcome the twitch in his heart and ignore it enough to be able to decode the meaning behind it, as the image in his mind of Cora reading the bastard’s words about having _another_ member of her family getting away from her for good was too clear and way too much for him to handle.

“Yep, that was more or less her reaction before she ran out of the store,” Stiles mentions, crouches now next to the VCR since he was trying to check it while Derek was reading, “although she growled and sweared more than… Okay, you should seriously consider sitting on that chair.”

“I’m not panicking,” Derek’s voice is even, but still not strong enough to convince anyone he is calm. He has no idea where Cora ran to, after he checked the only place that would make sense for her to go to- but at least he is sure the was motivated to run away except of being kidnapped.

“Whatever, man, I’ll just go to bring you a glass of water - “

There is a sound of an old video game sound effect back from inside the store.

“Stilinski!” shouts the voice of the man that sits on the encounter.

“ _Or_ I’ll go be with the customer first since Finstock is too busy being the manager who doesn’t do any managing. At least he let me pick the sound of the door being opened. But seriously, man, take a sit.”

Stiles rolls on his heels and disappear into the front of the store.

Derek stills avoids Stiles’ suggestion, and instead reads the next paper - the one that he was its recipient - still while standing; he deserves to deal with the pain.

_My dearest Derek. If my Grandson has done as he promises he will, then as you read these words it has been mere minutes since we last spoke. For you. For me, it has been over sixty years. The third of the photographs is of my children. The youngest is Derek. I named him after you, of course._

Derek messes the photos too much to know which one she - the _imaginary woman_ \- refers too, but he would care enough to check it anyway.

He wished there was an explanation to why would Jackson be chosen to deliver to him, though- whether it was because he left such a sweet impression when he was young or she knew Derek would bit the crap out of him and he would deserve it.  

_I suppose, unless I live to a really exceptional old age, I will be long gone as you read this. Don't feel sorry for me. I have led a good and full life. I've loved a good man and been well loved in return. To take one breath in 2007 and the next in 1920 is a strange way to start a new life, but a new life is exactly what I've always wanted._

Derek can barely breath at this point, with the lump too big for his throat.

He still refuses to believe, but he wishes; oh how he wishes she could get all that good that she deserves.

_Please reach Cora as soon as you finishes reading it. She’ll probably be at Stiles’ store right now, and I still remember too well how her separation anxiety took control of her life. Stay as close to her as possible and never let her go, no matter what she tells you. You’ll be a good big brother, you always have been, you’ll eventually find the right way. I believe in you.  
I don't know what you're going to say to her, but I know you'll think of something. Just makes sure she knows I love her._

If only he could figure out where the hell is she; where the hell is Laura, how come he keeps to relearn what missing feels like ever since that stupid fucking fire took them all-

Something cold and wet is nudged at his chess; Derek almost breaks his neck from raising his head up sharply, being taken by surprise more than he probably even has been, as he notices he does not stand alone in the room anymore.

“Thanks,” Derek murmurs, staring sideways as he takes the glass and drinks.

“You keep looking at it,” Stiles says, “I wonder if you’re just curious about it or maybe… maybe  you’re _the one_.”

Derek stares back at Stiles perplexed.

“The person he talks to,” Stiles gestures with his head at the man that is still frozen on the screen, “the mythological Easter Egg.”

Derek raises his eyebrows.

Stiles snorts. “Not very articulate, are you? Well, he’s like a... DVD extra,” he begins to explain, “You know how on DVDs they put extras on, documentaries and stuff? Well, sometimes they put on hidden ones, and they call them Easter Eggs. You have to go looking for them, follow a bunch of clues on the menu.”

Derek stares at the screen; that way he can calm himself down before he will show anything else except his anger.

He would not admit the guy’s rambling helps him to have a distraction to the now more or less smaller lamp that still threatens to choke him.

“And the thing is,” Stiles continues, and Derek wonders how can someone needs his hands so much in order to communicate, “He appears exclusively on exactly _seventeen_ different DVDs, and they aren’t even rare ones.                They are all totally unrelated, apart from all being rom-coms, it’s so weird. He is always hidden away, always a secret. Not even the publishers know how he got there; I've talked to the manufacturers too- _they_ don't even know. He's like he's a ghost DVD extra, just shows up where he's not supposed to be.”

“And what does he do?”

“Just sits there, making random remarks that have nothing to do at all with any of the films themselves. It's like we're hearing half a conversation. My second mission in life, right after getting rid of all the idiots that are convinced that the renewed films of Star Wars are the best,” Stiles makes a too-overreacting shiver, “is to find the other half.”

“So you keep replaying them over and over again until you finally hear it?” Derek does not feel like it is his business to judge Cora’s choice of friends as long as they do not hurt her, but he seriously wonders about this one.

Then again, out of all people she has known in high school, she has chosen to only keep in touch with Stiles for a reason; maybe it is a shared hobby of them.

“I’m checking if they’re all the same. The more I watch it the more I notice other weird things- like his haircut. He claims he is a time traveler who lost his time machine, so how could he possibly have all this gel to style his hair like this, or not having a bit sense of logic that people are gonna constantly stare at him?”

Derek huffs. “Obviously _you_ would think about it since you tried to put about a gallon on your head in an attempt to style yours.”

Stiles is not affected at all by the remark, and wears a devious smile instead. “Cora showed me pictures of you, before you got all grumpy-business-man and you were just another grumpy-cocky-jock at high school with so much gel you could get high just by sniffing your hair.”

“Only I grew up since then, instead of spending the entire day watching a man talking nonsense.”

“Oh, so you think it’s not impressive, huh?” Stiles’ face shows just how serious he takes the challenge, “check out what he says in the bit about the blinking and let’s see you not shaking your bones out.”

This time the video continues not by himself but only after the button is actively pushed by Stiles, with the Easter Egg man speaking right away.

“ _Very complicated_ ,” he ensures. Derek notices the way he looks at the camera feels strangely intimate, like it is more than a single-display.

“I’ll go now,” Derek says as Stiles gets to the controller again, “make sure she’s calling me if she comes back.”

“No, wait just for one moment,” Stiles stops him before he makes the first step to the door, “I want to bring you something, I’ll be right back. Try to talk to him in the meantime, though, maybe you’ll unravel it,” Stiles winks, and walks away again- this time into the back room.

Derek wonders what is he still doing there, now that his mind is clearer and he is much more focoused. He should have left a long time ago. Whatever Stiles searches for, it better be relevant to help him find Cora.

“ _...but actually, from a non-linear, non-subjective viewpoint, it's more like a… nah, just leave it, too much for a little head of a non-physicist._ “ the Easter Egg man guy draws his attention back.

“Is that what you’re bringing, her physic book?” Derek calls after Stiles, “Did you join her little club of people of who think physic is everything?”

“ _It is, though_.”

Derek tenses; the comment went too well with what he has just said, right as though he is another person who is present in the room right now.

Like a _respond_.

A lot of things the man said fitted way to well to whatever things they said and were cut off, come to think of it; impossibly like this very talk happened before.

“What is it?” Derek looks all around him, “Do you have a hidden microphone hidden here somewhere?”

The Easter Egg man smiles at him slyly, like _Derek’s logic_ is the weird phenomenon here. “ _Well, obviously I CAN’T hear you._ ”

_What the hell?_

Is this actually a Skype call? Was he followed for so long that they could suit the script by knowing exactly how he is going to react?

Derek presses the stop button and erupts as soon as Stiles returns. “Did you say things on purpose to make this whole talk sounds like he was replying to us? This is better not be a joke you and Cora are running, because if I find out it is I’m gonna tear your throat out - “

“ - Dude, are you _nuts_? You really think I’d joke about something so evil people did that made her _run_? As if she’d even agree to it.”

Derek studies Stiles’ face, but it is pointless- Cora would never roll with something like that. That Easter Egg man answering him must be a coincidence.

Stiles sighs. “Anyway, got you the list.”

Derek stares at him with a confused look.

“The seventeen DVDs, I thought you, um, might be interested,” Stiles shakes for a little one of his hands which holds a paper folder, but then his smiles fades as he probably rethinks about Derek’s possible interest in the subject, and he seems to start retreating.

He may really should having a second thought before he decided to go for it, but Derek walks past him towards the exit he takes the offered list anyway, just because buying all those DVDs can be a nice christmas present to Cora.

On his way there, Finstock grumbles in a low voice. Derek is almost tempted to let himself smile, even if just for a moment.

-

Derek gets his tensed nerves back the more he walks under the rain - the time he spends in between in his car on the way to the police station does not help at all - and curses himself for not listening to the skies’ warning the night before, probably the only effective information he got in the last twenty-four hours.

The desk sergeant who stands at the reservation has a tag with the name _J. Parrish_ written on it. Derek  heard about him from the few stories Boyd told him on the events he had during work, which means a lot since Boyd shares the same trait Derek is proud to have so himself: only sharing the meaningful details when telling something. Not that Derek would be irritated to hear more from someone he cares about, but the point is that If Parrish was mentioned by Boyd more than once- it means he is someone Derek can always count on.

He tells him shortly about Laura’s kidnapping, and thankfully the sergeant agrees to do as he wish and calls Boyd after he finish writing all the details down.

While he waits, Derek looks outside the window; there are two statues standing on the small roof above the entrance to the church across the street, and he absolutely refuses to believe that that lost house gives him the creeps so much now that he has the halusion effect like after watching a horror film, because the rain on the window confuses him and there is no way those statues look the same like-

As soon as he gets to the window and stops right in front of it, he suddenly cannot see any statute at all over there.

It is just his tiredness that cracks him up; but he cannot let it stop him until he finds both of his Sister.

“It’s not my case, but you’re lucky he’s on a day off,” Boyd greets him behind him; he reads the notes Sergeant Parrish took, “follow me.”

He leads Derek to an underground car park, which is almost full with a collections of different models of cars; Derek examine them, but there is nothing common in their shapes, sizes or production year. He wishes he would listen more closely when his Father talked to him about vehicles when he was younger, but the more he thought about it the more he understood how little memories he was left with to cherish.

“Over the last two years, the owners of all of these vehicles have driven up to Wester Drumlins House, parked outside and just disappeared,” Boyd tells him, “a couple of the cars even still had the motor running. I’m grateful yours is not one of them now.”

“If we drived with Laura’s car then hers might be,” Derek swallows at the thought.

“There was nothing about a message left on the wall before though, or about any doctor,” Boyd stops his walk in front of a big blue box that stands against the farthest wall, “that one was the only exception until now.”

Derek feels like he is going to lose it; just more and more enigmas, and not even a hope to start understanding what is going on. And the day is not even over yet.

Boyd’s heavy hand in suddenly on his shoulder, and his thoughts cannot drift anymore even if he wanted them too. “Laura’s tough, and Cora’s is too smart to get lost. They’ll be alright, you just have to be patient until you meet them again.”

“It’s not about whether or not I find them, but at what state.”

“The _right_ state,” Boyd’s voice is full of confident, “ either even stronger than before to face the world or refuse to let anyone control their fate. Brave heros in any scenario.”

Derek’s palm is put on top of Boyd in a silence gratitude.

They both stare for a while at the weird box: _POLICE - PUBLIC CALL - BOX_ is written on top, and on the sides there are little white windows with a black rectangle beneath the doors, where the phone - probably not working anymore - is supposedly at.

A weirdness that thankfully was the only one he witness that day that was not his to put his mind to.

At least for now, that is.

“That Jackson guy you said you hit will probably come to report soon himself, by the way,” Boyd informs him just before Derek walks away, “it’s nice to know that at least one time it will be easy to dissuade him from taking to the court for the thousandth time.”

Derek huffs a soft laugh, barely believes he is able to.

When he at last leaves Boyd at the parking lot on his own, wandering on his way out what the hell he is supposed to do now- he feels the buzz of his phone from his pocket.

His heart stops beating for a moment when he sees it is a message from Cora’s phone, but he does not let this to hesitate him before he opens it.

_Peter_

Plain, much shorter than Cora’s usual texts, and it is just as simply making Derek’s heart clench; their Uncle would easily leave her at the first moment he finds something at other place that he can capitalize from and he cannot have Cora to follow, and she surely knows it too, but she also knows - or at least want to - the he would not do it without telling her in advance.

He does not know how to feel about her not expecting anything better from Peter, and still choosing to find and trust _him_ for being around at least all through the time that it takes her to deal with Laura’s disappearance; the same one who for him, even if it has never been said out loud, the fact he cares for their well being is one of his rare weaknesses.

When he makes a call to Peter, though, right after reading the message when thinking all of that while the call was dialing- he only makes sure that Cora got to his place in a good physical condition.

Then there is suddenly a call waiting from an unknown number, and he switches the call so quickly that Peter may heard only part of his explanation.

“Hello? Boyd, where are you? _Where_?”

-

Boyd is not in the hospital antechamber when Derek gets there, and weirdly he has to show his ID before, even more bizarrely, he is directed to the hospice area.

His heart beats rapidly all his way there, and he cannot understand why did he wait to the very last minute to tell him something has been wrong with him all this long; he is not ready to lose him so fast, even if it was not already a mess of a day that he has been in.

The room is surprisingly empty but to one bed at the end, right next to the window; the curtain next to the bed is not even drawn.

When he gets closer he realizes that the man’s features may be the same- but there are way too wrinkles on his face where he did not see less than a half an hour ago when he last met Boyd, and what if he was mistakenly led to the wrong person with the same family name?

But then heavy lids are opened at his direction, and a recognizing smile is added to the old face.

“It’s the same rain as the one that was when we last met, isn’t it?”

And this is the exact same voice, talking with the same peaceful, quiet but clear tone and-

This is just too much.

“What’s going on?” Derek attempts to use the harsh, tough attitude he has used much too many throughout the day, but with such sure, pleased eyes watching him with affection, he cannot hide how lost he feels.

The elder looks confused now, too, but not because of the same reason as Derek. “He said you’d know by now.”

Derek is so tired of the continuing nonsense that he almost breaks down just there. “Who?”

“The Doctor,” he replies like it is obvious.

That means only one thing: Boyd was taken too.

Derek is almost out of breath; more and more people he knows are being taken, and he has not even started to think about what does the riddle that was left for him meant.

How many more people that he knows are in danger to be kidnapped, and what would happen if he keeps wandering around like an idiot instead of sit down and think about it?

Derek grabs his hair and growl, turns to look outside the window because he just cannot handle it right looking at those god-damned eyes.

"Is it really just about a riddle or does he want something me?" His voice still comes out too weak.

"No riddle," the admitted man says after a short pause, "the Angels, the Weeping Angels touched me and took me back to the past; to 1969. Here, I'll show you pictures of me with my wife Erica - "

" - Just tell me what he wants!" Derek breathes heavily, shaking a pointing hand at him insistently while being now half-turned to him yet still refusing to look, “ _tell_ me, because I know it can’t be only psychotic joy he is looking for, he’s not- he can’t - “

There is a sigh behind him. “Look at the list, Derek.”

That sentence came so much out of the blue for Derek that it stops his rapid breaths for a moment. “What?”

“He said you'd have it by now. A list of seventeen DVDs with that recording on.”

Derek closes his eyes. “Stop _talking_ like you’re - “

“ - I didn't stay a policeman back then- got into publishing. If it helps I can name them for you, if you don’t have it with you right now.”

Derek swallows once he gets to the last name; it does not even matter if the list Stiles gave him and he left at his car was the same, because the only thing that matters is that all the titles are of those he owns; every single film he brought during the years since he had moved to live on his own, and all this time he was being _watched_.

He had any right to have a shiver but that creepy, crazy realization- but the two people he has lost and the who-knows-how-many that are about to are enough to cloud his mind.

“So the Easter Eggs were all put by you, as if it’s news you works for him,” Derek feels revealed when there is finally rage - comfortable, easy to deal with rage -  developing inside him, “but I’m not leaving until you tell me exactly what he wants, no nurse will get me to leave. What there is about me that he planned this for so long? Where does he hide Boyd and Laura?”

He watches the rain slams at the window for a while, and then as if the understanding finally came to the one behind him-

“You still don’t believe the Weeping Angels are real.”

Derek frowns at the amazement in his voice. “Is that it? I need to prove him I believe in time traveling?”

“There is no other logical explanation for it, Derek, or one that can make more sense,” the says matter-of-factly, again speaks in an alike way to Boyd, “No one is after you, except of those creatures. They caught him too, The Doctor, and he got stuck at a random year like me. I guess that what happened to Laura too.”

Just for his dear ones’ sake - and for theirs only - he lets the idea settle in his mind, allows it to become his reality that he would act according to from now on: a reality where in some broken house, that neither has anything to do with him not anyone was told he was going to, someone has written a warning directed for him from the previous century, as he knew at what time exactly in the future he would have a stone thrown at his head; where two of the very little people he cared about were kidnapped to not another place but rather another _time_ by being touched.

Now that he thinks about it, it is not that different from the time he had to process the loss of the major of his big family in a fire- which is far more logically to happen in the reality he has lived until now, yet  to this day he fails to fully realize, even a full decade away, that it really happened to him.

Against anything that pulls his sight elsewhere from those big, always assuring eyes, he faces them again- and all of a sudden it really _is_ Boyd that lies on the bed, already in the twilight of his years when Derek, who is older than him, still has a few years before he reaches his thirties.

“He organized it all for you - the message, the list - because he knew you’d help him one day,” Boyd talks on, “and the moment has come today. I wish I could explain more, for instance what all those DVDs have in common- he told me that you’d understand, and that only you are the only one who is allowed to.”

“Why?”

Boyd shakes off the question with his head. “All that matters is that it's kept me going. I'm an old, sick man, but I've had something to look forward to. I have ‘till the rain stops.”

All at once Derek is by his side, palming the rusty hand - an old man hand; _how did that happen?_ \- tears go down his face almost as fast as the drops hit the window.

“I always keeps you all close, but never look back. Th-that’s how- that’s why you always end - ”

“ - I told the kids to not come visit me today, that I want some time alone. I asked the nurses to only let you in, so I can spend time with an old friend. It’s okay.”

“No, no it’s not, no, no,” he keeps whispering helplessly, like this is the only word he will ever be able to pronounce.

Boyd gets his palm free out of his old, and then there is a heavy hand is placed on his shoulder. “You’re as tough and smart as your Sisters, Derek. You just have to be patient until you meet them again.”

Derek cannot say anything in return, only wet sobs coming out of his throat.

He has no point for it right now, not really, but he is going to stay with him. He will wait there until there are no more shadows on the bright walls of the constant flood outside, that Derek will never wish again he had an umbrella to not be able to feel its intensity.

-

“Wah, wait, wait, hold on, so all- you only own seventeen DVDs and they are all _rom-coms_?” Stiles keeps laughing hysterically out of the speaker like it was the funniest thing he has ever had.

Derek is a bit far from having such a positive day, and so he rolls his eyes and ignores it in favour of trying to get Stiles refocoused. “Do you have a portable DVD player?”

“Of course,” Stiles answers after he regulates his breath, “Why?”

“I want you to meet me with some of the DVDs. Tonight evening,” he adds; he would be glad to finish this as soon as possible, but he cannot let himself without be able to truly put his heart into it, without seeing one last proof.

“Very connected to those films, I see. It could be easier to take me to the cinema, but I’m flattered you already take it to the date-at-home stage.”

“Do you know where Wester Drumlins is?” Although Stiles has no idea just how much it is not a good time to joking, Derek has too limited patience right now to feel bad like he should be for the aggressive hint in his voice.

“Yeah, I think so, gotta be somewhere at the abandoned side of the town.”

“I’ll text you the address. Be there.”

He ends the call and does as he said. He is glad he saved Stiles’ number when he tried to check for him back at the frat, because that way he does not have to risk showing up in front of him with puffy eyes and mind too foggy with all those turn of events and the change of the life perspective he has had until now.

He would be glad to put an end to it already, but he cannot trust himself to have his mind fully into it before he truly believes in it.

He buys himself something quick to eat and a bouquet of white tulips before he drives to another destination, one which is unfortunately too familiar with and where he can be still and alone with his thoughts until nightfall comes, so he will have time to think it all through.

The afternoon is still cloudy but painfully lacking of rainfall, like it has been ever since he has left the hospital, but the chill is only an excuse for shielding himself with his Father’s leather jacket that its sleeves are too long for Derek’s hand, even if his body does fill it all.

He walks in through the big gate, similar to those both of them have climbed just this morning to get to jump into Wester Drumlins’ yard; he is told that her resting place is located at another side of the graveyard, where Derek has yet to been to before. Honestly, it is not be able to find the place but the way itself that disturbs him, as he has no choice but to walk next to where his family is buried because they just _had_ to be situated in a central area.

As soon as he walks by, he feels the expected aching of the wrongness, a knot in his stomach that somehow tights his chest and chokes him on the same time, being caused by the thought of never being able to use the reserved place which was supposed to be occupied sometimes far into the future. They all waited for her, for Laura, but she was never meant to lay together with them.

After a while he spots Laura’s grave - _Laura’s Grave_ \- being placed between foreign ones, which is named with a surname he wished he could get to know himself. It is so close to be as old as she was the last time he saw her - just earlier that very day, so healthy and liveable, young and strong.

There are stains that have been on the stone for too long to wash them away. Even though there are flowers in the planter - too small, and daisies are not even her favourite - are not more than a few days old, Derek knows she is not being given a visit and treated as much as he deserved.

But then again, the nieces and nephews he has dream to pamper are much older than he is, and he knows already one grandchild of her - while being still in his freaking twenties - who barely knew her to think about the stories he was surely told about her golden years as anything more than just stories.

He notices that the year it is written she was born at makes her younger than her current age, assuming she indeed arrived at 1920. Derek snorts and sits in front of the grave, thinks of all the historical events that occurred during the period that is written on the tombstone and pictures her going through all those years, trying to deal with always knowing the future and not being able to change a thing. He imagines her struggles with the lack of the 21st century technology she was used to, all those television shows she loved and could never watch anymore because she could live long enough to experience again her original time.

All those years which eventually led to the one when their parents met and they were all born. He wonders if at that point she even had a choice to ever go and meet  them, maybe even worn them- and if she ever just watched them from afar, sad smile under eyes that saw now old things back when they were new, like she was not supposed to ever see them that way.

But that is the case only if all of this _is_ real; he remembers those older but unmistakably eyes that Boyd looked at him with, but was it really _his_ Boyd? And how can he know that the Laura who buries under this grave, or at least so claims the tombstone- is not someone else’s big sister?

What he knows for sure is that there is a great chance he will never find out unless he goes back to Wester Drumlins tonight- even if it feels like he is going to visit another graveyard.

He gently lays the bouquet on the grave, throws the planter and gets out of there back to his car.

When he gets there he sits next to the gate, feeling to worn out all of a sudden to get in. He closes his eyes and when he opens them there is a light blue jeep - old model, like everything around him these days, he realizes suddenly - and jumps out of it with two too long legs that he seems to yet figure out how to use without always being on the verge of stumbling over himself.

Stiles looks around as he gets closer to him. “ _Dude_ , you live in a Scooby Doo's house!”

“If it was mine I’d have a key to open that thing,” Derek says as Stiles helps him to stand up.

“What do you mean? So how are we supposed get in?”

Derek shows him instead of giving him an answer; he hears him muttering to himself in a low tone before he passes his backpack through the bars and follows him by climbing over the gate as well.

Once they get inside the house, Stiles crouches in front of a low chair in the living room and begins to prepares the DVD player as Derek leans against the wall. They have a dim light by the chandelier that is on the floor that surprisingly still works.

“So, abandoned houses,” Stiles says, his back is turned to him.

Derek does not reply.

“Come on, man, you _have_ to give me something. I know you’re Cora’s brother, but I still don’t know you, and this wall talks about the Weeping Angels that the video mentions too, like some crazy fan organised all of this- it’s just worries me a bit. Look, I know my Dad closed the case against you a long time ago-” he stops talking as if he blurts out something he should not have, and his hands stop moving as well, “not that I’m a creeper who’s after you or something like that, I’m just in the know by having my Dad as a Sheriff, you know? And- Okay I think we’re even now.”

Derek looks outside; if it was not for the dense trees, he may be able to see the moon right now, as its light seems to come from a low level. He hopes it is a full moon today; it always helps him calming down, reminding him of childhood bed times stories being told by a warm voice that came out of a loving smile.

“Whatever you do that makes Cora be more comfortable with you, keep doing it,” he says before even thinking about it, “it helps her, in a way. She’s gonna need you now. Promise me you’ll always be there for her.”

Stiles freezes again, but this time just for a moment, and it looks like swallows. “Hey, dude, you know that she loves you, right?”

“It’s different. Laura and I were never able to reach out to her like you do, she would be lost without you,” and then, because if this day was good for one thing then it was to teach him to express everything you feel as soon as possible, he adds, “Thank you.”

Stiles seems like he struggles with himself for some reason, until he leaves the player and stands a little faster than he should. “ _O-kay_ , so- the one I put in is with the clearest sound, and I have another one with slightly better picture quality on this one, but I don't know - “

“ - It doesn’t matter,” Derek cuts him off, moves to crouch himself in front of the screen, “I just need to hear the whole thing, see if there is any clue in the video about this place.”

There is a silence for a couple of moments as if they wait, and Stiles snorts as he presses the play button for Derek, who keeps staring at the paused video.

Derek _does_ know how to start a video, alright? He _is_ bad with technology, but not that much. He is just out of focous, that is all.

Which he cannot let himself be, especially not now as the Easter Egg man - _the Doctor_ \- enters the picture.

He sits in front of the camera, watches the viewer intently.

“What’s now?” Stiles asks as the room stays quiet for a few beats.

“When does the Doctor start talking?”

Derek’s gaze is fixed on said man, but he does noticed Stiles’ perplexed gape changes into a surprised  excitement one. “The Doctor… Like the one that’s written the wall? That’s how he is called? That’s him?”

“ _Yep, that's me,_ ” the Doctor says out of the blue.

Derek frowns. “It happened back at the store too, every single reply made sense.”

“No, it sounds like he's replying but he always says those exact words,” Stiles assures.

“ _Yes I do,_ ” The Doctor almost startles Derek once more.

“And that,” Stiles’ tone stays calm, almost as if he even notices how synchronized he is with the video.

“ _Yep, and this._ ”

“So do you just keep saying things you know will go along with all the things he repeats?” Derek asks before the maddening occurrence can continue frustrate him.

“What? No, it’s all me! There are a lot of versions which fit with different parts,” Stiles keeps talking while he gets to his bag and takes out a similar paper folder to the one he gave Derek earlier, “but the perfect one to fit with the whole video, the other half of conversation- it was never found,” he shows the written sides of the pages to Derek, “at the start that’s all easy- _Yep that's me, yes I do, yep and this_ , but then next it’s - “

“ _Are you gonna read out the whole thing_?” The Doctor’s voice cuts in, annoyed.

Stiles looks at the screen, then at Derek, and back at the screen. “Sorry,” he mumbles, honestly _embarrassed_ like someone made him feel that way and not because he suddenly thought he was doing something he should make him feel that way. _Like he was talked to_.

At any other scenario, Derek would stop the video right there and start shouting at Stiles with demands for explanations; but with the other crazy, unexplainable things he has seen today he is too creeped out to be affected much.

“Are you sure it doesn’t always happen? That he isn’t some kind of a magician?” Derek asks Stiles, but receives the answer from the television before Stiles manages to utter a word.

“ _Nope- a time traveler, or I was, I'm stuck in 1969._ ” Derek notices his accent is weird, something trapped between British and American.

“ _We're BOTH stuck,_ ” An almost ginger hair girl appears next to the Doctor, her eyes piercing as she looks at the camera as well, “ _You better get it right, or I’ll find a way to throw at you this Pillbox hat  and send someone to get back at you all the way from the sixties!“_

Derek will lie if he says he does not feel a bit threatened even while living in a safety distance of forty years apart.

“She’s my favourite,” Stiles says admiringly as Lydia , all as Derek remembers watching.

“ _Lydia!_ ” The Doctor whines, just like at the part that was on when Derek has entered Stiles’ store.

“I've already seen this bit at the store,” he tells Stiles when Lydia is no longer to be seen a second later, just as he remembered. At least now he cannot be tricked any longer.

“ _Quite possibly_ ,” the sentence is followed immediately after Derek finishes his.

“Wow, it really goes surprisingly well,” Stiles notes, “maybe try talk back to him, see if it’ll still work.”

Derek exhales through his nostrils, not pleased with the situation. The Doctor keeps reacting like he can hear them, right there and now, back from whatever time it was filmed- and Derek just wants to throw the television through the glass; he avoided to get to that point where he needs to do it until now by speaking to Stiles, but he knows that in order to solve this part in the way to understand what is going on he has to do it.

“Are you really recording it from 1969?” he asks finally at the screen, because he still cannot understand how he can even acts like it is logical or even possible.

“ _I’m afraid so_.”

“Oh my god,” Stiles exclaims from his side, stunned, “forget what I said, he hears you, he can _actually_ hear you!”

Derek raises his brows “He has just said he recorded it 40 years ago.”

“ _Thirty eight_ ,” comes the annoyed correction from the television, talking a bit louder than previously like he knew somehow he erupted into Derek’s talking.

Derek rolls his eyes. “ _Still_ twelve before I was born,” he insists, uncomfortable of the fact it was directed both to Stiles and the Doctor. He tries to test just how much he can stay realistic before he will idiotically play pretend at the next repeats.

“This is really you, this is really happe- no, don’t pay attention to me, just- just keep talking to him,” Stiles then sits down, checking his bag.

“ _People don't understand time, it’s variable, It’s not what you think it is,_ ” the Doctor says through a frustrated sigh.

Derek pinches his nose. “Like a lot of things today. So how?”

“ _It’s_ _Complicated._ ”

“I’m listening.”

“ _Very complicated._ ”

Derek then snaps at the DVD player, holding it with both of his hands so forcefullyit almost cracks and ignores Stiles’ protest. “My sister was replaced with a letter that is claimed to be written by her twenty years ago when she was _older_ , my best friend died today at his twenties after suffering a disease for more than thirty years. _Tell me_.”

Now that he refocouses on what he stared at, he noticed the Doctor leaned a little into his chair, raising his brows unimpressively, like the person at the other side of his camera overreacted. He looks away for a bit, licking his lips as he thinks.

“ _People assume that time is a strict progression of cause to effect_ , _but actually, from a non-linear, non-subjective viewpoint, it's more like a… nah,_ ” he waves a dismissive hand, _“just leave it, too much for a little head of a non-physicist.”_

Derek lets go of the player, still being too aggressive that it almost falls to the floor. “Now you’re just gonna agree that physics is everything.”

The Doctor shrugs. “ _It is, though._ ”

“So this is not a half conversations, after all. You just wanted me to talk to a video like an idiot.”

Then comes the same amused by his own acts smile he saw earlier today. “ _Well, obviously I CAN’T hear you_ ,” he reminds Derek, who feels he deserved to be scoffed for being fooled twice.

Stiles squeaks a little in delight. “This is _brilliant_.”

“So you don’t talk to me back from your own present, but it’s not like you just happen to know what I’m going to say- it’s something about time that was manipulated, so you somehow could hear our talk,” suddenly Derek is aware to his surrounding- what if someone is watching them right now? What of one of those Weeping Angels Boys talked about is here already, or was even here _before_ them?

Derek hates himself for not thinking to check when they have gotten here.

“ _Well not heard you exactly, but I did got everything you're gonna say._ ”

“Always gave me the shivers that bit,” Stiles comments, too light and unaware; Derek cannot risk hinting him without putting him in danger, though.

Derek holds his breath, prepares to be attacked. “How?” he asks through a rigid jaw.

“ _Look at the dummy to your left._ ”

Derek jumps to Stiles’ direction, who coincidentally enough sits left to him - he was going to do so anyway, but half through the jump he changes his original plan of only falling on Stiles and shielding him with his body, and instead decides to try moving him behind his back so he will be able to run - only the boy has good instincts of his own, and he backs up so suddenly that Derek is lucky to crush his head into his leg.

“Run, there’s someone’s here!” Derek gives up on trying to cover him and instead goes  around him immediately, right after he pushes himself off of him.

“No one’s- what do you- he meant _me_! And I can’t believe _I_ was that dummy all along.”

Derek scans the room, only half processing what Stiles just said. “What?”

“I'm writing in your bits, that way I got a complete transcript.”

When Derek does not turn around Stiles groans and gets up to face Derek again, picking up the paper with the script that is now full with Stiles’ marks. “See?”

“ _I've got a copy of the finished transcript,”_ the Doctor voice behind him, _“it's on my autocue_.”

“But nothing’s written here,” Derek says, furrows at the weird shapes Stiles scribbled beneath the printed words.

Stiles looks at him offended, like Derek implied that Stiles is not serious about it, and the blush that Derek only now comes to notice intensifies. “It’s a _shorthand_!”

Derek walks back to the DVD player. “That still doesn’t explain how you got this.”

The Doctor rolls his eyes. “ _STILL non-physicist._ ”

“He’s just snarky, don’t notice him, even _I_ can explain it to you,” Stiles leaves the script in favour to have his hands free for the explanation, “in _his_ past, he got the script I’m writing _right now,_ and at some point it will be brought back to him when he gets stuck in the past in the even _further_ future! It’s like time is a one big wibbly-wobbly... timey-whimey… stuff,” Stiles blinks, perplexed, clearly lost in his line of thoughts.

“What I actually meant,” Derek looks back at the Doctor, “was not how is it possible but what is going to _happen_? Are you one of that Weeping Angel gang?”

“ _Oh, thanks for reminding me- what really matters is we've got big problems now,”_ the Doctor’s tone gets serious,“ _They have taken the blue box, haven't they? The Angels have the phone box?_ ”

“That's my favourite. Oh, before I forget to show you!” Stiles pulls aside the two sides of his unbuttoned flannel to reveal his t-shirt underneath where it is written _the angels have the phone box_ , “I changed into this right before I got here.”

“I saw it back at the police station before they got to Boyd,” Derek brings his eyes back to the screen when Stiles returns shortly to his writing, “Are you one of them? Or were?”

“ _There’s not being one of them._ ”

“Why?”

“ _They are creatures from another world._ ”

“Boyd called them creatures too, but not as if they are literally…” Derek shakes the thought because dealing with science fiction and accepting supernatural beings are _real_ are two completely different things, “so when they place those statutes, is that a warning?”

“ _Only if you’re not their target, otherwise that means you are looking right at them. ”_

Derek raises his brows in doubt. “They are _creatures_ in a shape of _statues_.”

“ _Only when you see them._ ”

“What does that even mean?”

The Doctor sighs and shifts in his chair, like he prepares to tell a long story.

“ _They are predators of the potential of the unimplemented days in your original present. All the stolen moments you should have had, they take it away once they send you back somewhere back at the past, where you can’t live through them. This potential energy feeds them, and it’s fast and clean._ ”

It takes everything in Derek to not cut in, to not burst out and question the possibility of such thing. He is far past the point where wasting time in denial can be accepted, no matter how unbelievable everything is.

So he keeps his mouth shut and listens.

“ _They're as an antique race, and they survived this long because they have the most perfect defense system ever evolved. They are quantum locked. They don't exist when they're being observed; the moment they are seen by any other living creature they freeze into rock.”_

Derek has no idea what makes him bring his eyes up, but he is soon glad for it as he spots a statue of a Weeping Angel standing just in front of the entrance to the house from the garden. It covers its face like most of the other Derek has witnessed do, except it hunched but stands perfectly straight, as if in pretending to being too shy to reveals its real face.

And there is no one around to move it to place it over there, no one but itself.

No, it is not a stone, Derek knows it now, with the hairs on his nape that are instinctively stand and that feel deep in his bones; it is a _shift_.

“Stiles,” he calls him warningly, and points his head at the thing - _creature_ \- he makes sure to keep staring at. He will not pity the so called

“ _No choice, it's a fact of their biology,_ ” the Doctor continues on, not aware of the cloud tension that becomes thicker in the air of the living room, “ _In the sight of any living thing, they literally turn to stone. And you can't kill a stone. 'Course, a stone can't kill you either but then you turn your head away, then you blink, and oh yes it can_. _”_

“Don't take your eyes off of that,” Derek orders when he hears Stiles’ breath getting unstable.

“ _That's why they cover their eyes. They're not weeping, they just can't even risk looking at each other, they literally can never be seen. And I'm sorry,_ ” his serious tone gets even more severe as if possible, _“but it’s up to you now._ ”

“What am I supposed to do?” Derek asks, eyes still fixed on the inanimate in disguise.

“ _The blue box, that's my time machine. There's a world of time energy in there that they could feast on forever, but the damage they could do could switch off the SUN. You have got to send it back to me._ ”

“How?” Derek urges the Doctor after he gives himself an unsuitable pause in his explanation.

But for the first time, an answer is not received.

“How?!” Derek growls at the Doctor.

“ _And that's it I'm afraid,_ ” the man inside the screen says,“ _there's no more from you on the transcript, that's the last I've got._ ”

“What are you talking about?!” Derek demands.

“Derek…” Stiles murmurs beside him, and then Derek understands; there is no one to write down more of his reactions.

He will not be answered directly anymore, and therefore force himself to keep listening, to get any bit of information he will be given.

“ _I can guess they're coming, the angels are coming for you, but listen; your life could depend on this. Don't blink, don't even blink! Blink and you're dead. They're fast, faster than you can believe. Don't turn your back, don't look away, and don't blink! Good Luck._ ”

The picture freezes, and buttons with different options appear on the screen.

“No! Don't! You can't!” Derek shouts helplessly at the man in a recording that reaches its end.

“Let me rewind this,” Stiles crunches next to the player.

“No, Stiles, you have to - “

At the little more than second that passed between Stiles moving his eyes away and Derek somehow remembering to replace him- the Angel got into the house, fangs are shown inside his opened in a muted roar mouth, and its fangs are drawn out at them; the look in the eyes that are usually hidden behind two palms is as cold and dead as a stone itself. It is worse than any monster Derek has ever imagined to himself as a kid

“Stay focpused,” Derek reminds Stiles as the latter slowly rises to standing - almost blocking Derek’s view of the monster - and then backs up to stand next to him.

“Yeah, sorry about that, I have ADHD.”

“Soon you’ll have nothing, so forget about it and just keep. _Looking_.”

Stiles swallows. “There’s just this one though, right? We just need to keep staring at it until we get to the door.”

Derek finds Stiles’ wrist and leads them backwards; he almost stumbles over the chandelier. “I saw about three more today, they might be close.”

“Are you _shitting_ me?”

They both stop retreating since they cannot risking focousing on going around the light fixture without looking.

“Okay, I’m gonna lead us to the door, okay? But I’ll have to look away, so don’t you move your eyes off of it, and tell me if you gets tired.”

“ADHD, remember? So nope, not the perfect plan.”

“You want to be the one who lead?”

“What if someone will come from behind and then we’ll have _two_ sides to cover?”

“We have to take advantage of only having one - “ Derek thinks he may have just blinked; _shit._ “We don’t have time, Stiles. Let me help you. But don’t you _dare_ to blink.”

Stiles released a tensed distressed. “Who blinks? I'm too scared to blink.”

Derek carefully goes the long way around the chandelier to not interfere Stiles’ view, and gently guides him behind it - tries to eyeing the Angel himself as much as he can - and stops right next to the door that leads to the hall.

“I’m going just for a second to the front door to open it, so when we can’t watch him anymore we will run, okay?”

Stiles nods, one little movement of his head, and Derek runs to the front door.

It is locked, and he knows he will not be able to kick the wood strong enough to make a big enough hole to escape through.

He runs deeper into the house, but he founds only one more back door, which is locked too.

“They’ve locked us!” He informs Stiles as he tries to look for something to smash the windows.

“What? What do you mean?” Stiles calls back.

“Just hold on, I keep looking.”

He pulls drawers out and rips out rotten doors of cabinets as he desperately looks for something, _anything_.

“Derek, what if one comes behind me?!”

He cannot let someone else get lost because of him, because he was not good enough to be there in time and save them; he cannot let Stiles down.

He hears Stiles’ scream, and by instinct his heart stops, for a brief moment he thinks this is it; but then he remember the Doctor’s explanation about it being fast, and renews his searching.

After finding nothing both at the kitchen and a formerly, mostly empty library- he heads back to Stiles’ direction, and that’s when he notices a light that comes behind a closed yet not locked door that leads to the cellar.

“Derek?!” Stiles calls desperately.

Derek sprints back to the living room, and stands in front of Stiles, staring as hard as he can at the Angel, which stands now closer than it did when Derek left the room.

“Oh, thanks god,” Stiles sighs, and Derek senses his fear of being left on his own even without him mentioning it.

“I’ve just found another door, right next to the stairs. Get in, I’ll be right behind you.”

Stiles swallows. “No, we’ll run there together. I’ll get through the door and then you do, and then we’ll walk back together until we can’t see it anymore and only then run, just like we planned to do with the front door. And don’t _dare_ leaving me alone again.”

“Yeah, I’ll just try remember it next time when we have a chance to delay it,” he says as he let Stiles pulling him backwards by his hips.

By the time they go back as far as they can while still keeping the Angel at their field of view, Derek’s lower eyelids twitches.

“In my count,” Derek whispers, even though he knows he does not really have a reason to lower his voice, “one, two - “

Before he gets to three he his pulled over by Stiles, and they find themselves almost in a heartbeat already behind the door which they closed from the other side.

There is no point, though; as they go down the stairs, they see the three remaining Weeping Angels standing around the same blue box Derek has seen at the police station’s underground garage. The air is still in the empty space they carefully step in, and under even dimmer light than that in the living room, the Angels cover their faces in what seems as an eternal cry.

“What’s now? We can’t even get into this thing.”

As Derek keeps staring at the three Angels, he recalls the thing one of them handed him over; he fishes the ties strap out of his pocket.

As Stiles passes him deeper into the room, there is a slight noise behind him. Even if he did not have to turn around and look directly at it, he would know it was the one from back upstairs.

“Whole world in the box, the Doctor says,” Stiles says behind him, and Derek follows his voice to his direction, “hope he's not lying, because I don't see how else we're getting out.”

Before Derek can even notice he did something wrong, the Angel changed his standing, and instead of standing with two arms beside him like he did earlier, he is now pointing at something. Derek furrows at it when the light starts to flicker.

“Shit, shit, they’re turning out the lights!” Stiles swears.

Everything that comes next goes too fast and messy to really understand what is going on: they stumble with opening the box as they light constantly turns off and then on again, and with each moment of darkness the Angles getting closer; then they are finally inside and -

It is...

The _inside_ is…

No, he is _not_ going to deal with it right now- he already promised himself he will not let anything bizarre to distract him, no matter just how impossible it is for something to be _bigger_ -

He decisively walks deeper inside to the controller console of… whatever it is, when Stiles stays behind as he is too stunned to do anything else.

A familiar voice with a British-American accent is heard from somewhere above them, but Derek is too busy to hold it together to see where exactly it comes from.

“ _This is security protocol seven one two. This time capsule has detected the presence of an authorised control disc, valid one journey. Please insert the disc and prepare for departure_.”

Once they find the slot for the other DVD Stiles carried with him, though, they box is being swinged and it takes a while again before they manage to insert it in; then there is a noise of engineers working, and at last they are not being swinged any longer; but then everything around them fades gradually, until they can see the Angels standing around them through the transparentizing walls.

The time machine slowly disappears to whenever it was sent to, leaving them behind for the Angles to treat.

“That traitor son of a bitch!” Stiles cries out loud.

They both crouch helplessly against each other, Derek tries to cover Stiles as much as he can as a last reassuring gesture, because he already failed with protecting him; he cannot even have a last thought of comfort that at least this time he goes to where he will not let anybody down anymore, because he can only think about Cora that is going to be left all on her own.

After a moment he can tell his legs are on a different ground, not made of metal anymore unlike the floor they stood on just a moment ago. He carefully raises his head, and watch back the angels who their mouths are opened with a soundless snarl.

Derek is frozen.

“They looked at each other,” there is a soft murmur against him.

And so Derek finds himself again, almost twenty four hours exactly later, watching those same wide with startled honey eyes, which lock both of their stares at each other.

Slowly the look soften and Stiles releases a free, full of relief laugh as they both are ducked in a square creating by the Angels hugging the box that is not there anymore, and apparently were exposed to each other in the process of the disappearing machine.

He faced the Doctor and defeated the Weeping Angels, but is not sure just how out of his nightmare he is- as he still have a long time to heal and grieve on the lost of the outcome, and what the hell is he going to tell Cora? He cannot just bring her here, not that he would ever take the risk of returning this house. Or any abandoned house, actually.

“Stilinski and Hale, that should be a thing,” Stiles suddenly cut into his line of thoughts, and he looks again into the light eyes which are looking at him, “two guys that fate brought together and now they investigate the supernatural.”

Derek notices they are still in each other’s embrace; he sharply takes his hands off of Stiles and stand up - almost pushing Stiles to fall on his ass while doing so - and helps the other man to stand with an apologizing look. “I personally thought you would be more into publishing a book about the whole thing.”

Stiles shrugs. “Obviously I’m gonna write it all on the Eggs forum, but as soon as they see just how lunatic I am for bringing up the most idiotic theory they are gonna get my ass kick out of the community. Good thing, though, I may have never been close to solve this, but they were never willing to listen to anything I offered, even some stuff more reasonable than this.”

“I wonder why,” Derek says as he ducks under the raising Angles’ hands, being careful not to touch them just because he now knows what they truly are.

“Hey, you need to be thankful, you jerk!” Stiles quickly follows steps, “If it wasn’t for me giving you free information and pushing you to actually _talk_ to him even when you were too embrace of approaching a character inside a small screen, you would be _screwed_.”

“Because you have superpowers too, right? The way you almost shattered that Angle with your shrink.”

Stiles stops his steps for a second, but is seemingly wants just as bad as Derek to get out of that place because he gives up the dramatic offended pause pretty quickly. “I’m _so_ not giving you a free _the-angles-have-the-phone-box_ shirt.”

As they get back - hopefully for the last time ever - to the living room, Stiles start collecting back his equipment back into his back, wondering aloud who is he going to sell all those cheap displays now that he does not need them anymore, and whether he will get more money for it than the payment he only barely convince Finstock to give him when he worked there regularly during the summer; when they get out through the empty of any statute-y creatures garden he shares his planning of spending his free time from now on in researching about time traveling and the supernatural, and when they get to the parking lot he is already in the middle of a speech about his classmate Matt and why he suspects he is an evil force too.

Derek envies him, if he is being honest, for his ability to put it all behind him, and not being bothered of knowing this was not part of a joke but the very reality they live in, and have lived it until now in a lie.

The pause of the storm is longer than Derek expected, but he knows that when he wakes up tomorrow morning it will be renewed full force; he think about how more people are going to lose their relative and more friends are going to watch together the rainfall before death will take one of them.

But Derek knows he should be glad to still have a chance to hold into other remaining relative, now that he knows how better he should get at supporting her and make sure she knows of his deep care and devotion.

And about friendship-

“We should keep it touch, by the way,” Stiles says just before they parts ways, each to his own home, “in case more Weeping Angels show up or, you know- that idiot finally bothers to come see us in person.”

Well, even by the little time he has spent so far with Stiles, he already misses Boyd’s quietness, but he knows he cannot let himself give up on someone who proved to be someone he can trust. Not after today, not anymore.

-

“I saw Lydia today.”

It is the first time Derek and Stiles see each other while being all by themselves since a long time, possibly even since the Weeping Angles incident; with passing every week Stiles has more assignments to be done, and the last time he let himself driving through the three hours distance to each direction between where he studies and Beacon Hills was back in christmas.

It has been the nicest holiday Derek has spent since the fire: Derek has expected to spend it thinking the whole day about Laura having her first one without them, but then Stiles surprised by coming to visit at their new shared frat earlier than planned, and his present to Derek - a coupon of 1+1 on romantic comedies at _Finstock’s DVD Store -_ made Cora laugh so loud that Derek was afraid for a moment that her vocal cords would be torned. Later, though, Cora kept every now and then to possessively side-eyeded Derek when it looked to her like he tried to steal her best friend away from her, it was clearly Stiles who made sure to ask Derek to spend time with him and Cota every time they met, and then not letting Derek feels like someone who was invited out of pity- but rather because he was wanted.

Stiles hanged out with them even more than he did with his Father or his other friend, Scott, and they spent so much time together that suddenly it became an obvious thing for Derek and Cora to hang out on their own when Stiles was away, going together to watch films, and one night even have an open talk about all the feelings they kept to themselves all those years.

Afterwards Derek and Stiles started exchanging text messages on daily basis, and at the recent one Stiles asked if it was okay to meet with him when it is only the two of them, now that he is at home for spring break- and Derek only agreed since he sensed there was something that he did not want Cora to be there to hear, for some reason.

And that was how he is now standing in the doorstep, face is lighted by excitement in contrast to the condition Derek prepared himself finding Stiles at.

“Who’s Lydia?” Derek walk to the kitchen, leaving Stiles to let himself in. He usually tries not to think too much about all the things that they saw that day, and Stiles respected Derek’s discomfort with it, apart of times someone mentioned he was going to somewhere and he joked that they should be alert because the Doctor may pop up out of the blue- the blue box, that is.

“The strawberry-blonde girl that was with the Doctor, the one who peaked in when he said he’s stuck?” he takes the handed over cup of coffee that Derek has made for him in advance, “She was just getting into taxi and leaving when I arrived so I couldn’t bring her any of the stuff, and my friend Scott who was with her didn’t have a  clue where she was heading. It appears that he is not that much of the best-bro-to-ever-bro I thought he was, because during my obsession period with the Doctor he saw the video only, like, _million_ times, but it never occurred to him to tell me he knows her.”

That did not make sense to Derek. “But she had to already be taken to 1969 and be stuck there.”

“Not if the Doctor took her back to our time.”

“He didn’t do it with Laura, or even Boyd who I know for sure that the Doctor met,” Derek refused to accept that, “why would he help only her?”

“She knew the Doctor even before that, she travels with him. They used to journey with her friend,  too- Allison, who was also Scott’s girlfriend,” Stiles sighs, “she worked in her family’s business which sells weapons across the country, so she used to be away most of the times except for random visits, or so Scott told me. One day he told me they broke up because the distance thing was too much for them, which was weird because they were super gone on each other, but today he told me that something happened during one of their trips, and Lydia comes to visit him once in a while to see how he’s doing. Today was one of those times.”

So the Doctor helps only those he gives enough shit about, not other strangers who only rescued him.

Derek’s sympathy to Stiles’ story is hard to find when the anger fills him; if he only knew how selfish the Doctor is, being able to save the others who got stuck in the past and yet convince Derek to help him in order to defeat the Weeping Angels. He deserved to have the same fate the rest had, and Derek could find another way to make the Angles look at each other and not get back the time machine box’s key.

His fists are shaking with rage when Stiles holds them, catching Derek’s gaze in a serious, worried frown.

“I _know_ , Derek. If I ever met the Doctor and he would tell me he cannot bring Mum the cure from the future that could heal her in time, I would be _furious_ , and I would probably try to get at him for that. But you know what? Even when I screamed my lungs out at him, I would still know very well he couldn’t do anything. He changed the future when he reached you, but he could do that because he had to wait himself all those years to find you in other timeline, and it was just pure luck that he found a way where he could reach you even _sooner,_ and change the turn of events so other things happened but we still got anyway to the very same point- where the angles died. But he could not do it without Laura and Boyd guiding you, and he had to keep them in the time they were sent to so it would evolves in way nothing gets in the way of something else, and so eventually the Angles _will_ be avoided of getting his time machine.”

Derek shakes his head. “Then why not leaving it to happen like he originally did, where he did have to wait all those years? He had to get the risk of his plan to not succeed and then the Angles _would_ get to the time machine. All because he only cared about his sake and didn’t bother to return the other people the Angles used once it was over. Even if he could somehow help Boys or… Stiles, I helped him and he didn't even think about at least bring me to Laura’s time to let her meet me one last time.”

“Well, he _is_ an asshole, you can see it in the video. But Scott also told me about the few times he let him join their adventures - and of course forgetting to invite me, so much for a friend - and he told me about all the times he saved the world without us even being aware of it, how there’s a chance he’s saving our life at this very moment somewhere. Remember all the aliens things that happened in London, and those weird ghost-robots that appeared out of the thin air everywhere? He was at the heart of it all those times, and maybe while he waited all those years something bad happen somewhere else that only now he could put a stop to when he's spent his _own_ timeline traveling. So even if there is a chance that he _is_ a deuce for not repaying you, he knows what he is doing, it is possible it would avoid something else which is important to happen. Boyd could watch you from afar all those years, and I bet even he did not take the chance to mess something up.”

Derek looks away, his eyes are longing on the wall where at its other side there is Laura’s phone,  hidden in the drawer at his bedside table, that he still cannot find in in himself to get rid of.

“I don’t know what she wrote you in that letter but I’m sure she said she’s proud of you, didn’t she? And I bet she is even more now that her little Brother saved the day, and your relationship with Cora was improved.”

Derek huffs, a little overwhelmed by how fast Stiles can find the positive in every dark corner of Derek’s life, either talk to him off of falling back to the walking disaster he has been or talking his head off so much about anything that got Derek too distracted to even get into those bad thoughts to begin with.

“I wonder if getting me stuck with you is one of those important points in time too.”

Stiles flips Derek off, but Derek smile mostly because he knows already the answer- at least regarding his own life’s timeline.

-

Not that much longer, after Stiles returns home fro the last year of his studyings- it is suddenly all about the Doctor and how the hell he got the script and the list of the seventeen DVDs.

Stiles claims to be that much obsessed with it when he was away too; he carried the transcript on him all the time, making sure it was situated on a place that is easy to see and hard to miss whenever he had showers, just in case; he lied for the security a few times that someone stole something for him just so he can watch the security camera tapes, and right before he came back he even took the risk to make a false call to the police, claiming there is a strange blue box he kept seeing around throughout the year, just so they would use their ways to try locate it.

But neither the time machine nor its travellershas been ever seen, and it drives Stiles mad, not finding it possible for the Doctor to find it any other way.

One time when Derek comes to visit him in the DVD store - it is not the first time since he has returned to work there full time, even if it does not happen then often - he makes the decision that he has never really put it all behind him, and in order to do so- there are more things he has to give up on.

Stiles gapes at the little square yellowish pieces he is given, and then back at Derek.

“Man, you know you don’t have to do it, right?” Stiles speaks to him carefully; since the store is empty, they can let themselves to discuss it, though Stiles keeps his tone low, “what I’m going to bring him is enough, you can keep these to yourself- No, wait, you _should_ keep them to yourself!”

Derek shakes his head. “I have enough copies on it, both in photo albums and on my computer.”

“You can’t just bring me the _original_ pictures of them, Derek! That’s all you have left of them, and it is too little amount of them!”

“If Cora ever sees pictures I took of other pictures of people that look like them, then at least I can somehow explain this to her; but if she ever finds out I have the photos themselves, I will not be able to keep it away from her anymore. She deserves to know the truth about her Sister, but I don’t know how it will affect her to know that people she loves can just be taken coincidentally to the past, and I can’t risk it, not after the process she has made. That’s why I- _both of us_ have to keep it secret from her.”

He is glad Stiles is in the same page with him on that one; it bothers him that he can never tell her or even bring her to Laura’s grave, not until she is old enough and have the methods to deal with her separation anxiety- but he cannot let her go through what he does since he discovered about it, he just _cannot_.

Stiles bites his lips. “I try to think of me doing the same with my Mum’s and- I don’t think I could have a stranger carry them around when he doesn’t even know her enough to care.”

“They are going to help them one day. The least he owes them is to know who they are.”

Stiles stares at him for a while, searching something in his face- and only then take the handed pictures and add them to the folder he made for the Doctor. He looks back at Derek as if to make sure, and Derek nods at him.

The fact Stiles eventually lets him to go for it assures Derek that he did the right thing, even if he knows his heart will always aches a little for giving away the only remaining physical things that is left of his dear ones. That how much confidence Stiles inspires him in, and sometimes it scares Derek how Stiles changes him as much as their shared experience.

A loud noise of wheel screeching coming for outside, and Derek turns his head away as soon as he sees the car which made an unplanned stop outside.

Stiles, on the other hand, is freezed as he continues to watch on with wide eyes and his ever-worn gape. He finally moves when he grabs the folder with the documents  and with no clear reason storms out the shop. Derek follows him as soon as he passes around him, not thinking on what Stiles is after as much as he is focousing in keeping his eyes on him- still too anxious of people disappearing out of his life just because he does not pay enough attention to them, and this is _not_ going to happen to him again with Stiles.

Destiny is not something Derek believes in, if he even does at anything- but it is like the Doctor’s unconscious made him to cross roads with the two of them the moment Derek was ready to complete the compilation with the photographs.

Whatever made it happened, there he was standing with the same curly hair and even the same scarff Derek has now come to notice he wore during the recording, arguing in a combination of accents with a girl whose face is familiar too.

“Doctor, Doctor!” Stiles calls at him, smile wide with joy is drawn across his face, “that’s _awesome_! It’s  like finally meeting your childhood superhero after you helped him saving the world through Skype!”

The Doctor turns to look at them, surprised, and moves his gaze between them as he tries to understand the situation. “Oh, hey, fans, great to see you, but I’m a bit in a rush and there are things much more important going on then making your day, so,” he lightly shrugs.

Lydia is already a few steps from there in the way to where they are heading, and the Doctor starts jogging after her.

“No, no, wait!” Stiles runs after him until his continuing begging conceive him to stop, “you can’t go, we have to bring you this and - “

“ - I’m trying to save them and they _keep_ getting in my way,” the Doctor sighs, ignoring Stiles’ seriousness.

“We’re to save _your ass_ , jackass,” Stiles reproaches, but then his expression gets confused, “or prepare you for a situation in a future when you need us, at least.”

“Oh, this is _better_ not be the rabbits-apocalypse freaks again,” the Doctor groans and looks expectedly at Stiles.

“Okay, so, forty years from now- alright, _thirty eight_ , if you insist. Oh wait, thirty eight year from now as _back_ , as in the past,” Stiles groans, “Okay, thirty years ago you are going to be stuck because some time from now - “

Derek, who catches up, rolls his eyes and takes the folder from Stiles’ hands, drawing the Doctor’s attention to him. “One day you're going to get stuck in 1969. Make sure you've got this with you, you're going to need it,” he then hands him the documents which include the pictures.

“Doctor, you better move your ass here or I’m letting all those… whatever you called them to eat you alive,” Lydia shouts to their direction from where she stopped.

Isaac frowns when he turns his head back to them. “And you are…?”

“Derek Hale,” Derek replies, and when he looks at Stiles he seems to be a little too stunned from Lydia to remember to introduce himself.

The Doctor looks at the two of them for a little while more, his eyes are narrowed a little as if he try to memorise their face in the little time he can let himself stay there- and then nods in thank as he gesture at the folder he was given and runs from there to get to Lydia.

Stiles watches the two figures doing further from the, and his look seems to be centered on Lydia; it annoys Derek how much Stiles has been left impressed since he has seen that girl appearing in a video for only a few seconds and not much longer in person, and he pulls at his hands when he keeps staring dumbly at the street which they have already vacated of.

Stiles finally tears his eyes away and blinks down at their interlocked palms, then back at Derek with an expression which beautifully combines shock, uncertainty and a very slight hint of hopefulness.

He did not intend to do, but Derek does not regret. Stiles’ expression is not the same one that he stared at Lydia with, an awe of nothing more than admiring- it is includes so much more, and Derek is too pleased by it to deny.

“Is- Is this a thing that’s gonna happen from now on?” Stiles asks with hesitation, when Derek does not let go of his hand even after the necessary time to only pull him again to reality.

“If you agree to let me be the one always be there to make sure you don’t harm yourself when you get lost in something. _Someone_ has too.”

Stiles seems to struggle between glaring at him and beaming, and Derek leads them back to the store.

“ _Dude_ , you’re gotta admit that you thought too that it was cool.”

“Don’t call me Dude,” Derek rolls his eyes and squeezes his hands.

They have been so busy with that very experience which taught them the importance of seizing the moment more than all- that they were stupid enough to not try anything.

He wants to take it slow, though; after losing so many people, the worst that could happen is to let those good moments pass in a blink of an eye.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me at Tumblr: http://heavensentgohansrage.tumblr.com/


End file.
